


In Situ

by dustywings



Category: Tomb Raider & Related Fandoms, Tomb Raider (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-08 01:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11636226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustywings/pseuds/dustywings
Summary: The most difficult part is coming home.   [Lara/Sam]{A short love story, focussing on the aftermath of the trauma they went through together.}





	1. Chapter 1

The most difficult part is coming home.

A fortune has been left behind. She tries to comprehend the magnitude of what she now possesses. And thinks, why does it feel so heavy? Conrad would want her to have it, as much as her Father would. Immediately on her return, she is informed the amount she has inherited, and it’s like thick blood, dripping off her body. 

She can’t recall the last time she stepped into Croft Manor. It is now layered with dust, white sheets spread across bookshelves, tables, settees and chairs. The building is abandoned and lifeless. She shudders, wrapping her arms around herself, and cautiously surveys the rooms. Every single one of them. Dark, slightly damp, curtains closed. 

It is Father’s study which hits her, an axe waiting to fall. 

The desk is empty, and it’s the only furniture which has been spared. She has never seen his office so empty before. When she was a little girl, and visiting the office was one of rare treats, Father’s office was always cluttered with photographs, research papers, books, so many books; with towering bookshelves, hanging ornaments; architecture dating centuries old.

She strips the white sheet away, and the desk is smooth and shiny. The faint musk of wood filling the air. She rounds the desk, reaching out for the curtains, and yanking them apart. Dust invades the atmosphere, choking her momentarily. The sun glares through, angrily; betrayed to have been locked out for so many years. She squints, the vast grounds staring back.

The garden is desperate for some attention. Weeds have overgrown, plants have died, the trees have even seemed to have drooped somewhat; depressed in their loneliness. She turns away from the window, eyes on her Father’s desk, and she remembers why she hates this place so dearly.

‘I shall stay,’ she reluctantly admits. ‘For a short while, at least. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Why would _I_ mind? You can stay as long as you like. After all, everything is _yours_.’

Never, she thinks. _Yours_. What a dreaded word. The Manor will never be hers. Not really. It is already corroding into something old, and unwanted. The Manor seems to have died alongside her parents. And that is all the memory it carries: the faces of her favourite ghosts.

* * *

 ‘My apologies, Lady Croft, but I don’t recognise the name.’

‘You must do. We attended the same University together – _your_ University. She told me a short while ago she was planning to study a further degree with you. It was my understanding she might have already been offered accommodation. Or, at least, offered a place at the University.’

‘It’s very late to start applying _now_. We’re very much into the second academic term.’

‘I _know_. Can you not just check again? I need to contact her.’

‘Let me see. Hold on a moment.’

She does. Over the past few years, she’s become advanced in _holding on_. 

Finally: ‘Ah, here we are! How funny. I didn’t know we were willing to accept applicants so late.’

‘Heh. Well, she can be persuasive.’

‘Samantha Nishimaru. The good news is she’s staying close by. I can only pass on her contact details to you as long as I have her consent, though.’

‘Fine. Thank you.’

‘I hope you don’t mind my asking, but did you both lose contact?’

‘Something like that,’ Lara allows. ‘Please call me back when you have an answer.’ She hangs up the phone, and sinks into her chair. It shouldn’t make her so nervous, but it has been some time since she last spoke to Sam, let alone saw her. They both agreed distance might do them well.

They were wrong. For Lara, anyway. Distance has done nothing.

After Yamatai, everything just spiralled out of control. The remaining survivors were in a hurry to go their separate ways, and it wasn’t long until Lara found herself standing alone. Conrad’s inheritance was handed over, and after much insistence, Lara eventually gave in and visited her Father’s Manor. A new home. Far away from University and Yamatai, and not actually a home at all.

She glances at the phone. 

Hesitates. 

_Fuck_. Lara grabs it, and dials a number she _really_ shouldn’t dial.

After the third ring, somebody answers. Lara sighs. ‘Reyes,’ she pinches the bridge of her nose. ‘I know I’m the last person you wish to speak to right now. But, we need to talk about Roth.’

* * *

The inheritance is shared. 

Although Reyes is reluctant at first, she considers her daughter, what good the money might bring, and accepts.

‘As much as it _pains_ me to say this: you’re a kind girl. Thank you.’

Lara smiles sadly. ‘You’re welcome. It’s what Roth would want.’

There is a long pause. 

Shattering.

‘Oh,’ Reyes breathes, ‘If you say so.’

* * *

It will take Lara months to fix the Manor. That much she is prepared for. Besides, there’s something therapeutic about cleaning. In all fairness, Lara hasn’t put much effort into cleaning houses. After all, she spent most of her adult years so far in a one-room dormitory, sharing a hall with six other girls. Even before that, she attended boarding school.

While thoroughly scrubbing away at the windowsills, she hears the telephone ring. Lara drops everything, and dashes over to the next room. She picks up the phone, lowering her mouth mask. ‘Croft Manor.’

‘Lara?’

Everything stops.

Lara freezes, staring at the wall. 

‘Yes,’ she whispers.

‘Oh, my God.’ A beat. Then: ‘Oh, my God! It really _is_ you, isn’t it?’

‘... yes.’

Sam laughs. Laughs like Yamatai never happened, and things are just how they once were. She laughs as if a demon never did possess her in the first place, and the world is still just as fascinating and gentle. The sort of laugh where Lara has to smile, even if it wavers, ready to break.

‘I mean, don’t sound _too_ excited to hear from me. I can’t _believe_ it’s taken you this long. I’ve wanted to talk to you in _weeks_ , but I didn’t have your number which is, like, fucking dumb, considering we’re _supposed_ to be best friends. Then I heard you had moved into your Dad’s big-ass mansion or whatever, and so I was just, like, fuck, I’m screwed here. How can I find out where you are, if you don’t tell me? Whatever. Listen to me babble. I’m just _so happy_ to hear you. Anyway, sorry, sorry. _Talk_. What’s happening? Where are you? _How_ are you?’

Lara needs a moment to collect her thoughts. 

She is so unprepared for this. A duster in her hand, dressed in her pyjama trousers and a vest top. It’s all so domestic and normal, and, yet, she can’t say a damn thing. She hasn’t thought this through. 

‘I’m, uh, cleaning.’

‘Wait, what?’

Lara grimaces at how stupid she must sound. ‘You heard me,’ she waves her duster awkwardly. ‘The Manor. I’m cleaning the Manor. Apparently, I _have_ to move in as soon as possible. I suppose I can’t complain. Like you rightly said, it is _very_ big.’ She hears Sam chuckle. ‘I’m all right, in myself. You?’

‘God, you _are_ an idiot. You do know you can hire a cleaner, right?’

Lara noticed the fact Sam avoided her question.

‘There are people who get _paid_ to clean, and, no offence, sweetie, but they could probably do a better job than you.’

‘What’s wrong with my cleaning?’

Sam laughs. ‘Nothing! It’s just–you’re the one who _makes_ the mess. Other people clean up after you. Archaeologists,’ she mutters. Lara can imagine Sam rolling her eyes, and she grins. ‘I can come along and help, if you want.’ Lara’s heart skips. ‘Only if you want. I get it if you need to be alone.’

‘I would love your help. When can you come over?’

‘Ah, that’s a good question. Let me get back to you on that one. As you know, I’ve sort’ve started the academic year pretty darn late, so I’ve got _loads_ to catch up on.’

‘How is that going for you?’

‘I like it.’ She doesn’t _love_ it, though. ‘It’s…’

‘What?’

‘... well, you know. It keeps me focussed on something else.’

‘Right.’

‘Hey, uh, can I call you back? Maybe tomorrow? I have to go. But I’m really so happy you managed to find me.’ She exhales. ‘ _Again_.’

‘Me too,’ Lara forces a smile, until she realises it isn’t necessary. Maybe it’s just as well Sam can’t see her face. Because her eyes are burning, and her throat is closing in, and having to _think_ about the fact Sam requires a _distraction_ hurts too much. ‘Take care. I’ll be here.’

She knows. She knows, and that is why she hangs up without another word. Lara keeps the phone pressed to her ear, biting down on her lower lip. It’s a pathetic attempt to try and not cry. She glances up at the ceiling, really hating this place, and really just hating how everything has turned out.

Clutching the duster tightly, Lara returns to the windowsill, and scrubs so finely, she ends up breaking dried paint and wood.

It’s unsettling how she and Sam used to be so close. They were joined at the hip. Sam was the person who introduced Lara to so much, and to lose that, to lose _her_ , Lara can already feel the void in her stomach.

But – is that what’s happening? Are they falling apart?

Lara swallows. _Am I losing her?_ How ironic. How fucking _cruel_. In order to lose her best friend, she has to save her life twice. 

What they discovered on that island was paramount. Yet, Lara would take it all back, if just for another second with her best friend.

_Clang, clang, clang_. 

Lara lowers her mouth mask. The door. She stands, and walks towards the entrance. The doors are huge, if not slightly excessive, but she finds pleasure in opening them wide, and allowing guests through.

However, Lara doesn’t have guests. Just the nurse, who pops in every now and again, to check on her progress.

‘No butler?’ She asks, surprised.

‘I don’t think I need one.’

The nurse smiles, accepting the matter is now closed. She steps inside. ‘I see you’ve done some work around here.’

‘I’m glad someone has noticed,’ Lara chuckles. 

‘How have you been?’

‘Fine.’

‘No more pain?’

Lara hesitates, then shakes her head. 

‘Excellent. If you could take off your shirt, and I’ll be able to see.’

She obeys, unbuttoning her shirt, and scrunching it up in her hand while the nurse inspects the bandages. Blood still oozes through a couple of them. The nurse tenderly feels around Lara’s ribs, and asks, ‘Does that hurt?’ Lara shakes her head. ‘Good. The bones should be fully mended soon.’ 

‘How much longer?’

‘Until you can travel again?’ The nurse smiles, because they’ve discussed this multiple times before. ‘Two months, at least.’

Lara doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t hide her disappointment either.

‘I’m going to reapply your bandages. Take a seat.’

The nurse is finished in a little over fifteen minutes. Lara thanks her, shows her to the door, and finds herself alone again. Pressing her back to the door, Lara sighs, sliding down to the floor. She feels her ribs, which used to be so sore from the amount of falls she endured while on the island.

She wonders if her Father had to kill as many people in order to find answers.

Lara glances at her palms, rough from her experiences on the island, her skin cracked and dry. She imagines her palms, stained with blood, their faces haunting her. Their ugly, screaming faces while she shoots a bullet through their skull; snaps their neck open with a knife.

_It was all for you_ , she thinks. _All for you, Sam._

_I have killed so many for_ ** _you_**.

As always, Lara does the job independently, and therefore refuses to hire a cleaner. She will give herself a month to accomplish it. No less, and no more. 

By then, if she hasn’t succeeded, then she will surrender for the first time in her life.

Sam doesn’t call her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to board this ship properly, and write a full-fledged fic. I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

It is a stain on the mirror. At least, that is what she tells herself. Denying something is there works best. The reflection she sees every morning is merely an ugly deception. It isn’t real. There is not a demon staring straight back at her, its gruesome hand stretching out, wanting her, grinning wild.

Except, that very same stain manages to crawl out of the mirror, and latch on. 

At first there are the seizures. A friend is fortunately present. Can do nothing but hold her, until the seizure ends. The ambulance arrives seconds after the phonecall. She bounces back – as always. Sam doesn’t believe in being sick. The doctor informs her she may be suffering from epilepsy, to take these drugs, to take care. It isn’t epilepsy. It can’t possibly be. This can’t be happening to her.

Then there are the nightmares. Nightmares which leave her soaked in her own sweat, sometimes screaming out, sometimes hitting the air, fighting something invisible. On the rare occasion, the nightmares are so horrific, she sleep walks. Talks gibberish. A thing is chasing after her, and she has to get away somehow. But, always the nightmares. Always the same nightmares which are driving her crazy.

Afterwards, it’s the paranoia.

Somebody constantly breathing down her neck.

The island hasn’t abandoned her. It _followed_ her home.

Until, finally, she’s told a woman named Lara Croft is trying to get in contact with her.

Sam nearly drops her belongings. 

Damn it. _Fuck_. Not Lara. Please, not Lara. Sam can’t speak to Lara, let alone _see_ her. Lara is just a reminder of what happened. Lara _is_ what happened. 

If it weren’t for Lara, Sam wouldn’t be in this situation–

Sam nearly scratches out her eyes for thinking such.

It isn’t Lara’s fault. It isn’t Lara’s fault that she is weak, that she couldn’t fend for herself. After all, it was Lara who _saved_ her. Every time. It was Lara. And how much it _killed_ her to watch her friend _give her life_ , just so Sam’s could be spared. The amount of pain Lara endured, for her. Sam can’t make the pain worse.

So, she is given Lara’s telephone number, and, that same evening, she calls.

Lara sounds far away. Too far away. It _hurts_. Sam is wincing over the phone, but she tries her absolute hardest to sound optimistic and fun. _Same old Sam_. To her relief, she thinks Lara buys it, and then Lara asks her about her studying, _how is she_ , and Sam needs to pause a moment. Lara can’t know.

Tears sting her eyes. Just _hearing_ her. Lara, and her lovely voice, and just – so _lovely_. 

‘Hey, uh, can I call you back? Maybe tomorrow? I have to go. But I’m really so happy you managed to find me.’ Sam exhales, roughly wiping her eyes. _‘Again_.’

‘Me too.’

Sam holds her breath.

‘Take care. I’ll be here.’

She tries to say something, but what comes out is a timid cry, and she drops the phone before Lara can hear the damage.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair. They used to be so close, they used to be able to talk about anything, and, now, Sam can barely let out a word on how she’s feeling. She raises her collar, drying her face with the material. 

Looks towards the mirror, hung on the wall. 

The _stain_ looks right back. Sam _hates_ it; hates _her_. This Goddess she once almost, nearly _admired_. It hasn’t left. Elements of Himiko remain intimate with her, and she can’t _rid of it_. Somehow, this monster still has a complete grasp of her, and she can’t _shake_ her off. All of Lara’s work, everything, was all for nothing.

‘What do you want?’ Sam snaps.

She doesn’t expect an answer. Hot tears drag down her cheeks. She grabs her paper weight, and throws it at the mirror.

Glass shatters across the floor. Sam lets out an angry sob, turning away. She can throw things, she can scream, she can cry, but it won’t change anything. She’s trapped. There isn’t any way out and there is not a thing she can do.

Lara doesn’t deserve that. Lara doesn’t _need_ that. 

Sam winces. _Lara doesn’t need me anymore_. 

She sweeps up the glass, chucks it away, pauses. Sam peers into the bin, and takes a large piece of glass. For a while, she studies it, inspects the sharp edges. A thought passes her mind. Just _how_ much of her is Himiko trying to possess? How much can she still feel? Is physical pain gone from her? Is her mind truly still intact?

A knock at the door catches her by surprise.

Throwing away the glass, Sam approaches the door, opens it.

A fellow student bustles in, carrying a heavy supply of books: ‘I found them!’

It takes Sam a moment to realise what her friend is referring to. ‘Shit!’ She beams, and greedily accepts the books. ‘You’re a superstar! Thank you!’

‘No problem.’ While Sam places the books onto her desk, her friend notices the smashed mirror. ‘Um, personal issues?’

‘Huh?’ Sam glances at the damage. ‘Oh, _that_. Me and a friend got kinda drunk last night, and, well, _shit_ happens, y’know?’

‘Fair enough. Oh, you need a hand looking through those books?’

‘Nah, I got it. Thanks. I owe you.’

‘All right. But – demonic possession? Weird thing to be researching. You sure you haven’t got any ideas?’

Sam smirks. ‘Oh, me?’ She sits at her desk, and allows her friend a convincing smile. ‘I’m full of crazy thoughts. Honest to God, it’s just an interest. I might write up something on it. Just – y’know, an interest.’

Her friend believes the lie. ‘I’ll leave you to it. See you around.’

‘See ya.’ 

Sam waits until she hears the door close. Opens a few books, and scours through the glossary. Multiple phrases pop up, and she settles on the most obvious first. _Gods, demons, possession, women_. 

One book mentions schizophrenia. Sam swallows, and decides to entertain the possibility.

Well, if she has _that_ , then at least there’s a name to the madness.

* * *

_Croft Manor is always a frightening place at night. Sam has never been a fan of the building, but she knows Lara detests it. Although her best friend has never really told her why. Maybe it’s due to the fact it is owned by her Father, and Lara has told Sam_ **_plenty_ ** _about him. Or, maybe it’s because she didn’t necessarily grow up in the Manor. This place is a stranger’s home; she doesn’t belong here._

_Admittedly, Sam has had a bit too much to drink tonight. Somewhere along the way, she managed to ditch her two friends, and wandered into the Croft grounds. It’s past midnight. Lord Croft knows her, and he’s not very keen on her, so Sam is more than aware she shouldn’t knock. Especially so late._

_Instead she climbs the pipe, up to Lara’s room. Sam is fairly acrobatic. She’s climbed buildings before – it took her months to convince Lara to try it out. However, climbing buildings while drunk isn’t as easy. Sam carefully finds her balance, and begins to climb. Fortunately, the pipe is sturdy, and has a few convenient bumps for her to place her feet._

_When she reaches Lara’s room, Sam smiles wide. Success! Now she just has to get into the bloody room. Sam does not consider tapping the window. Instead, she goes for the more outrageous approach – naturally – and manages to open the window from the outside._

_Silently, she slips one foot into the room. Bends herself at an awkward angle in an attempt to smoothly glide inside._

_Instead she loses her footing, smacks her forehead against the window, and falls into the room._

_Or, more precisely, Lara’s bed._

_Lara yelps in surprise, unknowingly kicking Sam off the bed. Sam hits the ground hard. ‘Ow! What the fuck, Croft?’_

_‘What the–? Sam?! Sam, what are you_ **_doing_** _?’_

_Sam pouts. ‘Ow.’ Sits upright, and glares up at her best friend. ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’_

_‘You know, there is a_ **_door_** _.’_

_‘Pft – doors are overrated. Besides, I thought you might like the surprise.’_

_‘Well, believe it or not, I’m not_ **_big_ ** _on intruders falling into the bed I am sleeping in.’_

_‘Each to their own, honey.’ Sam scrambles to her feet. Presses a hand to her sore head. ‘By the way, you really hurt me.’_

_Lara rolls her eyes. ‘Come on, then.’_

_Sam’s smile broadens, and she wastes no time to snuggle into bed with her._

_‘Warm,’ Sam mumbles._

_‘Sorry?’_

_‘I said you’re warm.’_

_‘Oh.’ Lara snorts. ‘Thank you.’_

_The two have shared a bed many times before, and perhaps it’s a coincidence, perhaps not – but, sleeping with Lara is always easier. And Sam is fully aware of the fact the Manor is far more bearable for Lara, when Sam is present. Closing her eyes, she rests comfortably beside her, conscious of the fact Lara’s arm has moved across her waist._

_‘Will you be here in the morning?’_

_‘Yeah,’ Sam replies sleepily._

_‘Good,’ Lara mutters, and Sam opens her eyes, uncertain what is implied behind that single word._

_As if Lara is trying to say,_ I wish you were here more often _._

* * *

She has a seizure thrice. Loses consciousness for a while, and then she’s suddenly trying to get out of bed. But the nurse is holding her back, and desperately insisting she needs rest. Her body is exhausted. 

_She_ is exhausted. 

Then it hits. Sam blinks at the nurse, and realises where she is. Just what has happened.

‘Again?’ She whispers under her breath.

A monitor _beeps_ beside her. An IV drip attached to her. Patients resting on either side. Sam exhales shakily, scrunches her eyes shut. She _is_ tired. Holy shit, she’s tired, but–

‘What’s happening to me?’

‘That is what we’re trying to find out. Now, is there anybody we can contact?’

‘Why?’

‘It’s best if you have somebody here. It can be family, a friend, whoever you want.’

‘I–’ Sam thinks of Lara, and her heart squeezes. ‘No. No, I can’t think of anybody.’

‘Parents, then?’

‘They’re in the States. Wait, no, please don’t contact them! I’ll do that.’ Sam can’t actually recall the last time she communicated with her parents. The nurse knows she’s telling lies, but has enough empathy to dismiss the topic. ‘What happened?’

‘You can’t remember?’

‘Not really.’

‘You had a seizure. Twice. Fortunately, you were out in the open, so you were taken care of. An ambulance came to pick you up. You have been in an out of consciousness, and you had another seizure while in the ambulance.’

‘Oh.’

The nurse tries to smile. ‘The doctor will be with you shortly. Are you _sure_ there isn’t anybody we can call for you?’

Lara. It was always Lara. 

The name nearly passes her lips, but something stops her. Something sharp and heavy. Like ice, clawing into her skin.

‘No,’ she breathes, ‘There isn’t.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just slipping in a cheeky headcanon that Lara and Sam knew each other before University.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

_Five, four, three, two, one––_

_‘Ready or not!’_

_She’s a child, running down the long, empty hall. Excited beyond belief. It has taken years, but finally Daddy is playing a game with her –– what’s more, he wants to play her_ **_favourite_ ** _game. She loves hide-and-seek. She loves searching, finding the clues. Daddy is particularly skilled at this game too._

_Deliberately he leaves his shoes beneath a curtain, tricking her into believing he’s hiding behind. If there’s time, he might even stuff the bed with pillows, fooling her into thinking he might possibly hide beneath the sheets. Sometimes, Daddy is just so brilliant at this game, she never finds him._

_But, when she runs, the hall doesn’t seem to end. It seems to darken around her and, beginning to panic, she runs faster. Which only makes it darker, harder to see, until, suddenly, it’s pitch black. She gasps, stops. This isn’t how the game is supposed to go. Why have the lights gone out? Why is the house so empty?_

_She calls out for him._

_Then the lights immediately flicker on again. And there’s a woman, tall, blonde hair, with the softest voice. ‘Wake up, child,’ she whispers. ‘Wake up.’ Her face mutates, falls from her skull, and then it turns horribly white, a mask, and a demon grinning down at her. ‘Do you know how_ **_dearly_** _,’ she purrs, ‘I want to feel your_ **_cold_ ** _body?’_

_It makes her angry, makes her sad, makes her terrified to see those two faces._

_A woman she thinks of as a Mother. Another woman, a myth, who stole her best friend––_

_She bursts into tears. Small and fragile, collapsing to her knees. There are footsteps hurrying behind her, and she turns –– there he is! Daddy has found her. Heard her crying. And there’s a pistol in his hand, and he’s crying too, and weeping gibberish, and it makes her cry harder to see him like this._

_‘You poor thing.’_

_She turns to look at the demon again. Himiko is smiling, eyes wide with pure delight. She kneels down, strokes the girl’s cheek._

_‘Don’t you realise that she’s_ **_mine_** _?’_

_‘Lara,’ Daddy weeps. ‘Help me.’_

_The pistol is suddenly in his mouth, and he can’t stop himself. Lara widens her eyes, gasps, and realises Himiko is doing this. Himiko is going to kill him. Himiko is forcing him to kill himself, and there isn’t anything Lara can do._

_Because suddenly the girl is chained to the ground. The metal digs into her wrists, and she hisses in pain._

_‘Mine,’ Himiko whispers, ‘All mine.’_

_Lara tries to find her voice––tries to_ **_scream_** _._

_A bullet is fired. Daddy collapses to the ground, his blood pooling the floor._

_Lara tries to reach for him. For his corpse, his face, tries to save him––_

_‘It’s all right,’ this is a different voice. Softer. Himiko is gone, and in replacement is Ana. Pitying her. **Loving** her._ _All of her_ **_lies_ ** _bleeding through. ‘It will all be over soon,’ she whispers, words like velvet. She strokes Lara’s hair, her face; the kind of affection a Mother would share with a daughter._

_‘Y––’ Lara gasps for breath, ‘You_ **_CUNT_** _––!’_

_In a flash, the world turns upside down beneath her._

_She lands heavily. Smacks her head against the earth. Looks up, head bleeding, dripping past her eyes._

_And she’s there. Ana and Himiko have disappeared. Now, chained to the ground, Lara can only watch her best friend carry the gun –– her gaze is distant, expression dead, and Lara doesn’t struggle when the pistol is pointed right at her._

_‘Where were you?’ But her voice comes out in a broken, tired sob._

_Lara can’t move. ‘Sam.’ Tears sting her eyes. ‘Sam, I––’_

_‘Look at what you’ve_ **_done_ ** _to me.’_

_‘No, no, no, no –– this isn’t –– this isn’t_ **_real_** _, I––’_

_‘You forgot about me.’_

_‘No––’_

_‘Bitch. You left me to_ **_rot_** _.’_

_‘I––’_

_‘I mean_ **_nothing_ ** _to you. You_ **_never_ ** _cared, because you’re_ **_selfish_** _, and_ **_cruel_** _, and_ **_fucked in the head_** _. You_ **_used_ ** _me for your own gain, and now I’m like_ **_this_** _, all because of you. This is all_ **_your_ ** _fault––’_

_The tears pour like a river. Lara looks away, trying to hide just how_ **_hurt_ ** _she is. How, oh, God, how can Sam say such things?_

_‘I would take it all back,’ Lara whispers, ‘Just to have you again, I would take it all back. I would never have suggested we visit the island. I don’t––I don’t_ **_care_ ** _anymore. If I knew what would have happened, I would have––’_

_‘What?_ **_Say it_** _.’_

_‘I would have chosen_ **_you_** _. Every time.’_

_Sam laughs. Laughs, and laughs, and Lara watches. Helpless. Watches while Sam’s face distorts into Himiko’s –– that_ **_vicious_ ** _look. ‘Oh,’ Himiko beams, so proud of herself. ‘Your_ **_eyes_** _, child. It truly is so_ **_beautiful_** _, watching you as your heart_ **_shreds_** _––’_

* * *

The telephone jolts her awake.

Lara yells out. The sheets have slipped from the bed, and she’s dripping with sweat. Heart hammering in her chest, her mouth, her head. Lara swallows. Tries to catch her breath, but her stomach is in a tight knot, and she can’t––

The telephone. Lara frowns. Blinks. Exhales, and grabs for it. ‘Croft Manor.’

‘Hey, Lara. Jonah here.’

‘I––Oh.’ Lara checks the time. It’s nearly three o’clock in the morning. ‘Jonah? Hi. What––why are you calling so early?’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know whether to call you now or later, but I thought you ought to know.’

‘About what?’ Lara rubs her eyes. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘It’s Sam. Have you not heard?’

Lara inhales sharply. Sam. ‘I––No, I haven’t.’ Just hearing the name sends her on edge. That _face_ in her dream. Lara shudders. ‘I haven’t heard from her in a while, actually. Why? Is she all right?’

‘She is _now_.’

Lara stiffens. ‘What do you mean _now_?’

‘You gotta promise me you won’t freak out, okay? I know you two are close, but at least hear her side of things before completely losing it. Sam gave me a call yesterday. Said she needed a lift back from the hospital. I didn’t ask any questions until she was in my car. Thing is, I haven’t seen the girl in weeks, Lara. I didn’t know if you knew what’s been goin’ on, but obviously you have no clue.’

‘I––Hang on,’ Lara sighs. She stands to her feet, proceeds for the window, and opens it. Fresh, cool air gusts into the room. Lara presses a hand to the wall, gives herself a moment. Then: ‘What the _fuck_ is going on, Jonah?’

‘Sam has been having these epileptic fits. I think there’s more to it, but she won’t tell me very much. The doctor is keen she have somebody watch over her, so I obliged –– unfortunately, Sam is determined to be left alone. You know I can’t let her do that. Lara, she refuses my help, and I just thought –– seeing as you’re both best friends –– you might be able to help her.’

‘... what…?’

Jonah exhales. ‘I know this is hard, but…’

‘Fits? How–– _when_?’

‘I don’t know. I think it’s safe to assume they began shortly after returning from Yamatai.’

Liar.

Sam is a liar.

For some reason, Lara can’t hold the telephone very well. It takes her longer than it should to realise she’s _trembling_. Trembling so much even, she can barely control her limbs. 

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck _fuck_ ––

That stupid girl! That _idiot_. That ridiculous, stubborn American! Why would she do this? _How_ can she lie through her teeth, and pretend everything is okay, when she is being _rushed to hospital because of seizures?!_ Lara scrunches her eyes shut. _Fuck_. How can _Lara_ be so dim? Of _course_ Sam is suffering –– they _all_ are. 

Except none of them, except for Sam, were possessed by a Goddess.

Lara wipes her eyes roughly. ‘I need to see her.’

‘I know you do, little bird. Listen: let me tell you her address, all right? Then you can both talk, and sort things out.’

She breathes. Tries to, at least. ‘Okay.’ 

For now, the Manor will have to wait. Her Father’s research will have to wait. For now, all that matters is Sam, and knowing that she is still alive.

The moment they hang up, Lara dresses into her jeans, a top and leather jacket, before rushing out of the building. Her footsteps echo the halls, and as she dashes down the stairs, the floorboards whine and creak, as if already mourning her absence. 

It feels as if her Father were right there, watching her leave the door, and never look back –– all because of one girl.

* * *

The journey takes approximately an hour and a half. The travel from Surrey to London, especially so early in the morning, isn’t too tricky. There’s no traffic, for one, and it helps that Lara knows the centre of London like the back of her hand. Studying there as a student has its perks. 

Campus is scattered across the city, but Lara knows the specific apartment Sam is residing in, thanks to Jonah. It’s nearly six o’clock in the morning. However, she cares little about that. Sam has been hiding secrets from her. And Lara has no patience to wait until it’s a reasonable hour. Besides, she has a hunch Sam won’t be sleeping.

She parks her motorbike outside the flat. Yanks off her helmet, and approaches the building. The outside door is unlocked. Lara lets herself in, and proceeds upstairs. The flat smells of damp wood. Something neglected and forgotten about. It’s student-like, the carpets a dark blue, and the walls a pale yellow. 

Once she reaches the third floor, Lara finds the correct apartment number. That’s when she pauses, just to _think_ about what she might say. How she might say it. _Where to start_. Sam hadn’t called her back –– why? Sam has been rushed to hospital –– why? Sam has cut off all communication with her best friend – _why_? 

God help her, she’s speechless. She just needs to _see_ her.

Lara knocks. Loud and clear –– she knocks _three_ times, just to be sure.

There is a long wait. So long, Lara considers knocking again, but––

‘Who is it?’

She’s alive.

Lara swallows. ‘Me. It’s me.’

Another wait. A pause which hovers for a while. Then, the door is unlocked, and slowly opened.

Sam peers through the gap, like something frightened, or threatened. Or something severely wounded.

Lara had spent the past few hours trying to come up with what to say.

But, seeing her now, after all this time––

‘You never called back.’

Sam drops her gaze momentarily. ‘Yeah…’

‘Can I come in?’

‘Yeah.’ Sam opens the door wider. 

And then Lara sees what she’s been hiding. She widens her eyes, and it’s as if her entire body shuts down at once. Her mind freezes. All thoughts she had are struck from her head. Because there is a long cut down Sam’s cheek which Lara has never seen before, and she’s–– _hurt_. Sam is hurt, she’s injured, and what the _fuck_ is happening?

‘Don’t ask,’ Sam rolls her eyes.

‘I––’ Lara nearly laughs. ‘Are you pulling my leg?’

‘No,’ Sam replies sternly. ‘I can explain.’

‘Please. _Do_.’

‘Don’t you want to come in first? And stop _talking_ like that.’

Lara sighs, softening her voice. ‘Sorry.’ She steps inside, and Sam closes the door. The apartment is, in fact, a studio. Sam’s bed is on one side, and her kitchen on the other. Another doorway leads into an en suite bathroom, and that’s about it. Lara notices the amount of books stacked on the desk, her opened laptop, a dish in need of a scrub. Sam lives here. Has made a life here.

She sees the broken mirror. 

‘It’s really early.’

Lara frowns at Sam. ‘Jonah called me.’

‘Shit.’ Sam drags a hand through her hair. ‘He promised me he wouldn’t tell you––’

‘It’s just as well that he did, Sam. You’ve left me in the dark.’

‘I–– _me_?!’ Sam scoffs, and mocks a laugh. Lara can’t help but be reminded of Himiko in her dream, seeing Ana's face too –– none of it made any sense. ‘Lara, c’mon: you ain’t no Saint either. Ever since we came back from the island, we’ve _both_ found it hard to talk to each other. Don’t start throwing the blame on me, when _you’ve_ been just as bad.’

‘Seizures?’ Lara raises a brow. Sam immediately shrinks back. ‘What else has been going on? What about that mark on your face?’

‘I––Look, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m fine. The hospital let me out, and––’

‘You are _not_ fine. _I’m_ not fine! Don’t talk _bullshit_ about _you_ being **_fine_** _!_ ’

Something shatters between them. Sam says nothing, watching Lara, almost studying her –– and Lara feels nothing but _shame_ for raising her voice. That isn’t like her. She doesn’t have a temper. She doesn’t get angry. She doesn’t _yell_ , especially at Sam. And it’s a horrible sound. A sound Lara doesn’t recognise and doesn’t like in the slightest. 

By the look on Sam’s face, she’s not sure how to handle this ugly side of her leaking through.

‘Oh,’ Sam breathes. Tears freely trickle down her cheeks. ‘Okay.’

Lara has only been here for less than a minute, and she’s already made her cry. It hurts more than she can bear. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘ _Sam_. Don’t cry.’

‘Well,’ Sam presses her lips together, trying her hardest to gain control. But the tears keep falling, and Lara has scared her, and she doesn’t want her best friend to be _angry_ , ‘I _am_ , so, _deal with it_.’

Lara reaches out for her. Sam steps back.

‘Really?’ Lara asks.

‘You don’t get cuddling rights after that.’

‘But, you like my cuddles.’

‘When you’re being _nice_ to me, I do.’

Lara pulls a face. ‘That’s not fair. I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?’

‘Whatever,’ Sam hates the fact her voice slips. She can try to sound hard and defensive, but Lara just _does this to her_. 

She doesn’t make any motion to move when Lara tries again. And Lara’s arms are warm, and secure, and feel good around her. And Sam knows she doesn’t have a choice. She has to embrace her back. She’s missed her. God, she’s missed her, and they’ve been acting like children, and––

Lara is so _safe_. 

Urgently, Sam throws herself at her. She embraces Lara so tightly, clinging onto her so desperately, her knuckles turn white, and she can hardly _breathe_ ––

‘Please tell me you’re here to stay.’

Lara tightens her embrace. 

It doesn’t need to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: _Rise of the Tomb Raider_ has not happened in this fic (yet?), so the dream regarding Ana will be discussed later on by Lara.


End file.
